


Lamia

by penpenhooray



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Body Horror, Creature Fic, Creature Harry, Deathly Hallows AU, Horcrux Hunting, Horcruxes, M/M, Monster Harry, Mythical Beings & Creatures
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-28
Updated: 2015-10-05
Packaged: 2018-03-26 03:15:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,129
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3834934
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/penpenhooray/pseuds/penpenhooray
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Living Horcruxes were never meant to last long. Two souls were never meant to mingle for long. What happens when the fragment of Voldemort's soul reacts with Harry's as the young wizard reaches his coming of age?</p><p>Harry doesn't know what's happened to him, or why he suddenly has abilities he never dreamed of. All he knows is that he has to hunt Horcruxes to stop Voldemort.</p><p>But as time passes, the more the Horcrux in Harry shapes him into the Dark Lord's perfect mate.</p><p>Will Harry be able to complete his quest, or will he embrace the monster within?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So I was in the mood for Tomarry/Harrymort. But I couldn't find any good fics that didn't involve excessive Ron/Hermione/Weasley!bashing. So I decided to create my own.
> 
> I want to have Ron and Hermione sucked into this drama (and perhaps find their own dark pairings ;) ), but I haven't decided how best to do this.

There were very few moments in which the Burrow could ever be considered quiet. The Weasley family was always full of chaos, full of sound, full of life. And honestly, Harry loved it. He preferred the lively chatter of the Weasley household to the sterile silence of the Dursley’s.

But at 11:54 on July 30th, the Burrow was probably at its quietest. Everyone was sleeping, recovering from the aftermath of rescuing Harry from the Dursley’s, as well as preparing for Bill and Fleur’s upcoming wedding. Sure, there was still noise, what with the Weasley men and their penchant for snoring, but it was calming background noise.

Harry was probably the only person still awake, as he sat on the front steps to the house. In his hands, he held a small digital watch (which he may or may not have swiped from Dudley’s room, not that the other would notice  its absence). 

But the digital watch didn’t work inside the house (too many wizards and residual magic), but he could watch the display while he was outside. True, Harry probably could have used a clock inside the house (as soon as he found a clock that was actually a clock), but after so many years, Harry had built the habit of counting down the minutes until his birthday.

“Harry?”

Turning his green eyes from the watch, Harry looked up to see Hermione standing in the doorway. In her hands was a mug (and from the smell, Harry could guess it was hot chocolate). “How long have you been out here?”

Harry smiled softly, “About fifteen minutes…” He admitted, because there really wasn’t much point in lying to Hermione, “Why aren’t you asleep?”

“Do you really think we’d go to sleep without you where you’re supposed to be?” From behind Hermione, Ron stepped into view, carrying two mugs, “Who knows what trouble you’d get yourself into?” He smiled tiredly, “Tea, or coco?”

“Coco, please…” Harry chuckled as Ron handed him one of the mugs before taking a seat next to him on the steps.

Hermione took her place on Harry’s other side, “So what are you doing out here?”

Harry looked back down at the watch in his hand, taking a drink of coco, “Just counting down the minutes…”

_11:56_

“Do you always insist on doing this alone?” Ron chuckled, sipping his tea.

“Can you imagine the Dursley’s staying up with me?” Harry couldn’t help but grin, “But at least this time, I get to be with you instead of your owls.”

“Yeah, Pig isn’t all the great of company.”

Harry couldn’t help but laugh at the image of Pig at a birthday party. “No, I think I prefer this.”

“Oh, I almost forgot!” Hermione got up quickly, setting her coco on the step before heading back into the house. After a minute or so, she returned with two wrapped presents, “Nothing completes a birthday like presents.”

A smile spread across Harry’s face as he reached for the presents, “What did you get me?”

Ron smacked Harry’s hand away, “Hey, it’s not your birthday yet, Harry. You’ve still got—” he looked at the watch, “two minutes.”

“Since when did you become a stickler for the rules?”

“Since we don’t want to spoil the surprise.” Ron chuckled, “This isn’t just any birthday, Harry. This is your coming of age.” He nudged Harry with his shoulder, “This is the big one…”

“And you deserve to have a proper birthday, especially if we’re going to be running around the country for the next few months.” Hermione nodded.

The trio fell silent as they reminded themselves of the herculean quest that lay before them.

“We can do this…” Ron murmured, though none of them were sure whether it was an an affirmation, or a question.

“Of course we can.” Hermione nodded, “But right now, let’s focus on Harry no longer being a minor.”

Harry snorted, “You make me sound so young when you say it like that, Hermione.”

“Well you are the baby of this group.”

“Yeah, well this baby has to stop a homicidal maniac from taking over the world.”

“Again.”

There was a small chuckle between the three of them, before they settled into comfortable silence. They took sips of their drinks, leaned on each other, and watched as the minutes ticked by.

“Do you want us to do a countdown?” Hermione asked quietly.

“Nah, the watch will do that.” Harry smiled softly, watching the glowing digits of the watch.

_11:59:50_

_11:59:51_

_11:59:52_

_11:59:53_

_11:59:54_

_11:59:55_

_11:59:56_

_11:59:57_

_11:59:58_

_11:59:59_

Harry didn’t see the watch tick over to midnight. He wasn’t even aware that the midnight had even come. Because the moment midnight had struck, Harry’s world went black.

* * *

 

Ever since his resurrection, the connection between the Dark Lord and Harry Potter’s mind had been growing stronger. It had been useful in manipulating Potter into going to the Department of Mysteries. And it was quite amusing to torment Potter with his rage.

But for the entire experience both of them had with the bond, Voldemort had always been in control of what Potter experienced.

So when midnight struck, and the sensation of agonizing pain seared through the Dark Lord, needless to say, it was unexpected.

After the agony came the visions.

_He was in the countryside. Most likely Briton still, knowing Potter_ _’s habits. And the ramshackle hut of a house didn’t do much to boost his opinion of the setting. Honestly, surely the Order could find better safe houses…_

_But as much as Voldemort could spent hours critiquing the Order_ _’s shortcomings, but there focus of his vision required his attention._

_Potter was sprawled on the front steps, with his usual flunkies, the Mudblood and the Blood Traitor, on either side. Both were calling out his name, but the Boy Who Lived  was unresponsive, limp in their arms._

_But in an instant, the limp body of Potter began to contort, twisting out of his companions arms with superhuman strength. Limbs were stretching and reforming to the point that parts of his clothing were beginning to rip. Interesting, to say the least. No doubt years of neglect were being forcibly reversed._

_But then Potter_ _’s spine began to become more pronounced through his shirt, the bones sharpening and eventually erupting through the shirt as beautiful (if blood-covered) spikes of emerald green._

_“Harry!” The Mudblood cried, her eyes wide with shock and horror. The Blood Traitor couldn’t speak, but judging by the sickly pallor on his face, he echoed the girl’s sentiment._

_There were scales spreading over Potter_ _’s body, the same stunning emerald that studded his back: patches down his arms, collaring his neck, and even decorating the hollows of his cheeks. And that was just what was visible, no doubt there was more. As the scales reached Potter’s hands, the tips of his fingers began to lengthen, sharpening into razor-like claws._

_But then Potter_ _’s eyes opened, wide and unseeing. Voldemort was well aware of the color of Potter’s eyes, but he could note the luminescent quality in the moonlight. That, and the fact that Potter’s pupils were now nothing more than slivers of black in the glowing green._

_“Oh sweet Merlin…” The Blood Traitor finally spoke, trying to keep Potter’s thrashing to a minimum._

_Up until that moment, Potter had been silence in his violent transformation. No moans of agony, no cries of pain or fear, not even a gasp of shock._

_So when Potter opened his mouth, revealing sharp fangs behind his blood red lips, and let out an inhuman shriek, it was quite unsettling, even to the Dark Lord._

_The shrieks sounded like nothing more than screams of pain and agony at first, drawing the attention of the sleeping inhabitants of the hovel as lights began to flicker to life inside._

_But as the members of the Order made their way to where the trio were located, the shrieks escaping from Potter_ _’s mouth because more understandable._

_To Voldemort, at least. The spitting hisses were not meant for the human ear._

_“…My sssoul…” Potter shrieked, the Parseltongue words laced with pain, “I hunger…my sssoul…”_

Before Voldemort could hear more, or see the Order’s reaction to Potter’s transformation, the vision ended. The Dark Lord opened his eyes to find that he was still seated in his chair in front of the fireplace in his chambers. Nagini was curled in his lap, in a state of aggitation.

 _“Massster, what isss it?”_ His familiar hissed lowly, “ _What causssesss you sssuch pain?_ _”_

 _“Fret not, my dear.”_ The Dark Lord allowed his hand to caress Nagini’s head, “ _It isss jussst the Potter boy. There hasss been an_ _…interessting development…”_

* * *

When Harry opened his eyes, his body felt as if he had done ten rounds of “Harry Hunting” with Dudley and his gang.He groaned. He should have expected as much from falling asleep on the front steps…

Though when Harry spied the horrified look on both Ron and Hermione’s faces, as well as the fact the rest of the Weasley family was up and circled around him, he could guess that there was more to his sore body than sleeping in a poor position.

“Harry…” Hermione breathed a sigh of relief, “You’re awake…”

“How long was I out?” Harry blinked. Had he passed out again?

“About a minute and a half, Harry.” Hermione nodded, checking the discarded watch.

There was a pause before Harry decided to speak again, “Then why do I have the feeling this isn’t an early birthday party?”

Before anyone could answer him, Harry carefully got to his feet. He stumbled slightly, but Ron was quick to reach out and stable Harry by grasping his shoulders. Clutching Ron’s arms for support, Harry smiled down at his friend in thanks.

Hold on…

Harry looked down, to see if Ron was standing on a lower step. But no, they were both standing on the same step, and Harry was looking _down_ at Ron.

“How am I taller than you?” Harry whispered.

Ron gave Harry a weak smile, “I think that’s the least of your worries, mate.”

That was when Harry saw the state of his hands wrapped around Ron’s biceps, from the sage green scales to the blood crusted claws. But as soon as Harry could comprehend what he was seeing, the claws shrunk back and the scales dissolved into his skin.

Harry looked back to meet Ron’s eyes, “You saw that, right?”

Ron nodded, “It’s not just your hands, Harry.”

By now, Harry was about to start hyperventilating.  He needed to see what had happened to him. Pushing his way past where Fred was standing with the rest of the Weasley family, Harry made his way into the Burrow.

The rest of the Order was making their way from where they were sleeping, and their shocked looks at seeing Harry didn’t do much to comfort him. But he was used to strange looks.

Screams, not so much.

Harry had to cover his ears at the sound of Fleur’s terrified screams. The Veela was only partially down the staircase, and her usual peaceful beauty was now contorted in absolute horror. Bill wasted no time in rushing to his fiancee’s side.

“Fleur, it’s just Harry!” Bill grasped the Veela’s shoulders tightly.

But the blonde’s only response was to hide behind her soon to be husband, “Do no’ let ‘im ‘urt me!” She cried, trembling behind Bill’s frame.

Harry shrunk away, trying to hide himself from Fleur’s terrified gaze.

“He’s not going to hurt you, Fleur. It’s Harry!” Ron shook his head, stepping in front of Harry to keep him out of the Veela’s view.

“’E iz Lamia!” Fleur shrieked, “’e iz going to eat me!”

Harry could not listen anymore. Bolting from behind Ron, he rushed to the closest washroom to get a good look at his reflection.

He didn’t even look like himself.

There were green scales running up his neck and face, his cheekbones were now high and prominent. His hair was no longer an uncontrollable mess, and only now did Harry realize that he was not wearing his glasses, yet maintained perfect vision.

And the green eyes he had received so many comments on were now nearly serpent-like with slitted pupils.

But mere moments after Harry noted his snake-like appearance, the scales and spines disappeared into Harry’s now flawless skin, leaving only the perfect, scarless flesh behind.

Not even Harry’s scar on his forehead remained.

“What the hell is wrong with me…” Harry whispered, looking up in his reflection to where Ron and Hermione were standing behind him. “What the hell is a Lamia?”

Neither could answer him. Hermione shook her head slowly in defeat. “I don’t know Harry…”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again! Sorry for the wait! I hope this chapter makes up for it!

It took Bill nearly an hour to calm down Fleur enough that she stopped screaming. As is was, the couple were still in their bedroom as Bill tried to talk to Fleur more.

The rest of the Order was still downstairs, trying to recover from the aftermath midnight had brought.

“What the hell is a lamia…” Harry repeated, more to himself than as an actual question.

“…I think I might know…” It was Arthur who had answered, the Weasley patriarch clearing his throat as all eyes turned to him, “I think I might have read about them once in one of my books at Hogwarts, I’ll have to check…”

As Arthur made his way up to the Burrow’s attic, the rest of the group made their way to follow him. It would take all the extra hands they could get in order to go through the clutter of the attic.

“Do you know what book we’re looking for, Arthur?” Remus asked, opening boxes of books to rummage through.

Arthur was looking through a box of his own, “It’s _The Magical Fauna Bestiary: Volume 1 A-L._ It’ll be a dark gray leather book…or it might be blue…”

And so the group began their search for the illusive book. And given how much stuff the Weasley family had managed to collect and horde over the years, that was no small feat.

Harry was desperately blinking sleep from his eyes when a triumphant cry came from Hermione, “Found it!” She smiled tiredly, pulling the thick textbook from its resting place.

As she flipped to the book’s index to find the correct page, Harry made his way to her side. He desperately hoped that perhaps everyone was mistaken, and that his circumstances were simply a fluke or an accident.

“Here it is, Lamia.” Hermione breathed a sigh of relief as she opened the page. _“Lamia. Class: Humanoid. Sentience: Sentient. Ministry of Magic Classification: XXXXX, Known Wizard Killer.”_

Harry closed his eyes. This could only get worse…

_“Lamias originated from Greece, a distant relative of the Merfolk of the region, though Lamias developed into land based beast. While Merfolk are fish-based creatures, the Lamia is akin to a serpent.”_

“I kinda figured that…” Harry murmured. Ron reached out and rested his hand on Harry’s shoulder as Hermione continued to read.”

_“Also unlike Merfolk, Lamias are natural predators, who lure their prey through a beguiling mask of beauty and charm, before devouring their hearts and souls. Lamias were designated XXXXX by the Ministry of Magic not because of mindless savagery, but from their deadly control over their powers and their victims, which ranged from children to young men and women. To the human eye, even a trained wizard, a Lamia appears to be completely human, albeit a beautiful one. It is only before they strike, or if the Lamia so chooses so, that their true form can be seen._

_“It was only after one Jonathan Keats survived a Lamia attack as a child that the brutal existence of Lamias became common knowledge—_ Wait, Keats?” Hermione paused, looking up from the book, “John Keats? The poet?”

Harry recognized the name John Keats. But given that his knowledge of Muggle poetry was limited to what education he received while with the Dursley’s, all Harry knew that John Keats _was_ a poet, just not when or any of his works.

Hermione, obviously, knew more about the topic, “I’m such an _idiot!_ _”_

“Wow, never thought I’d hear Hermione say that.” Fred chuckled, elbowing George as the two shared a chuckle…before their mother hushed them.

Hermione shook her head, “Keats wrote a poem called _Lamia,_ I can’t believe I didn’t remember—”

“That you didn’t remember an obscure poem written by a Muggle poet?” Harry raised an eyebrow.

“Not a Muggle, Harry.” Hermione smiled softly, “Just a short-lived wizard.”

“Actually, not so short-lived, Hermione.” It was Arthur who spoke this time, “Mister Keats faked his Muggle death…wizards don’t die of Tuberculosis.”

Harry blinked, “Why would he fake his death?”

“To hunt Lamia.” Hermione was looking at the text once more, “’ _—Keats dedicated his life to hunting down Lamias. He, along with his associates, continued to hunt down all traces of Lamias until the last reported Lamia slaying in 1852._

_“‘Lamia’s were officially classified Extinct by the Ministry of Magic in 1853.’”_

There was silence that settled over the room as Hermione finished the article, though no doubt the thoughts that churned through everyone’s minds was a near audible phenomena.

Harry shook his head, “…How can I be a man-eating snake demon that’s been extinct since before Dumbledore was born?”

No one had an answer to that question.

“I don’t understand how no one seems to know about Lamias if they were such dangerous beasts.” Ron wrinkled his nose, “Wouldn’t that have been covered in Defense Against the Dark Arts?”

“It might have been…in 1800.” Arthur replied, “ _The Magical Fauna Bestiary_ was the main textbook for Care of Magical Creatures back in the day. It wasn’t replaced by _Magical Beasts and Where to Find them_ until sometime after I graduated Hogwarts.”

“Then shouldn’t Remus know about them too?” Harry turned to look at Remus, “Didn’t you have that textbook at some point?”

Remus nodded weakly, “I never came across Lamia in that book…”

Arthur sighed, “That’s because _Magical Fauna Bestiary_ went through editing and downsizing during the 50’s. A massive two volume set was too cumbersome for Hogwarts students, so it was rewritten with more up-to-date information. Rare monsters weren’t included, let alone extinct ones.”

Hermione frowned, “Then why did you have the older…” She trailed off, not bothering to finish her own question as she already knew the answer.

Hand-me-downs.

The Weasley patriarch shrugged, “I probably wouldn’t have even remembered having those if I hadn’t been teased—”

“—for having older books.” Ron finished, looking at his father.

Harry was reminded again, of just how little the Weasley had lived on in the past. To him, they had always seemed so rich…even if not monetarily.

But Hermione was not satisfied, “They why did Fleur know what a Lamia was, let alone recognize Harry as having the markings of one?”

“Because,” Bill’s voice wafted from the stairwell as he entered the attic, “Veela and Lamia do not get along, apparently. From what she said, Lamias are the natural predator of Veela. Bird-like seducers against snake-like seducers. Those child victims of Lamia you read about,” he nodded to the book in Hermione’s hands, “Were often Veela children. Fleur said her grandmother lost a few sisters and cousins to Lamia.”

Harry shook his head, trying to keep his heart from racing out of control, “This can’t be right. I can’t be a Lamia. None of this makes sense. I do _not_ want to eat hearts or souls, from anyone, Veela or human. I’m about as seductive as a tree branch—”

“—if that tree branch happened to be shaped into the new _Firebolt_ going on pre-sale before the British and Irish Quidditch League try-outs.”

Harry, as well as everyone else in the room, turned their shocked expressions towards Ron, who had both hands over his mouth and an impressive shade of crimson over his face and ears. “I can’t believe I just said that…” He muttered, somewhat muffled by his hands.

“Neither can we—”

“—though you took the words right out of our mouth.”

Harry turned to glare at the twins, “Don’t you two start, I’m not in the mood for jokes.”

George (at least now Harry could tell the difference, now that George had one less ear) shrugged, “Not exactly a joke. You’re not exactly my type, but we’re not blind.”

Harry buried his head in his hands, “I haven’t changed that much…it was just the scales…”

“Harry, you grew over a foot.” Fred snorted.

“And you don’t need those glasses anymore.”

“You’re not so twiggy.”

“Come to think about it, you’ve developed quite the nice—”

“That’s enough!” Molly Weasley had more than her fill of jokes at Harry’s expense (even if they were more compliments than anything else), “Honestly, it’s the middle of the night, we won’t be able to do anything productive without a bit of sleep. We should all be getting back to bed.”

There was something about Molly Weasley that, when she told one to do something, it was generally a good idea to do it with as little resistance as possible, if any.

And so the attic was slowly emptied of people as they made their way back down to their rooms and to their beds. Bill hadn’t needed any convincing, eager to return to his fiancee’s side. Others were simply to tired to argue, with Tonks nearly falling asleep on Remus’s shoulder and Charlie already asleep under an old broken desk stored in the attic’s clutter.

As Harry made his way to the stairs, Molly grabbed his arm, turning him to face her.

“Harry dear,” She began, “I know this is not the best start for your big day…” She took a deep breath, squeezing his arms gently, “But no matter what is happening right now, and no matter what you look like, or if you have scales and fangs, you will always be our Harry.”

They were simple words, spoken from a simple woman who had the simple wish to love and protect her family. But to Harry, those simple words, powered by that simple wish, were worth more than any bought of magic could ever hope to achieve, “Thank you Mrs. Weasley.” He smiled softly.

She smiled in return, “Now come on and bend down, I can’t reach you anymore.”

Harry chuckled, bending slightly so Molly could press a quick kiss to his forehead.

“Good, now go back to bed. And actually sleep this time, young man.”

“Yes, Mrs. Weasley.”

And so Harry made his way down the attic steps, where he only had take a few short steps before he was at the door to Ron’s bedroom. To his surprise, he actually bumped his head on the low door frame as he entered.

Ron chuckled, following behind Harry “Welcome to my world, Harry. Misery loves company.”

The two quietly got settled into their beds (or rather, Ron in his bed, Harry in his small mat on the floor). It was only when both were laying down, blankets wrapped around them, that Harry finally spoke.

“Do you really want to ride me like a broom?”

Ron sighed, “Harry, I can definitely appreciate you’re a fine-looking bloke, as well as everything Fred and George said. But if you’re afraid I’m going to jump you in the middle of the night, I’ve got about as much urge to grope you as I do Fleur: I can appreciate the sight, but I don’t exactly want to touch.”

“Well Bill would kill you if you tried.”

“Don’t worry, I stopped wanting to try back in fourth year.”

Harry stared up at the ceiling, still trying to process everything he had learned, “…why do you think I became a Lamia?”

“Who knows?” Ron yawned, moving his arms behind his head, “Maybe it’s a side effect of you being a Parselmouth, or maybe _that_ is the power “the Dark Lord knows not” or something.”

“That doesn’t make any sense.”

“Since when has anything we’ve done made sense?”

Harry smiled, a genuine one at that, “How can you be so at ease?”

“Because it’s like three in the morning and my brain can’t function enough to panic.” Ron turned his head towards Harry, “And I’m done freaking out at you for every little curve ball life likes to throw at you. Lamia or not, you’re still my best friend…though if you try and seduce me to eat my heart, I will be royally pissed at you.”

“I would be to.” Harry chuckled, feeling at peace since the first time since his birthday began. As he closed his eyes, Harry couldn’t help but think that, maybe, things wouldn’t be so bad…

* * *

 

 _My sssoul_ _…I hunger…my sssoul…_

 _Harry could see his dream self standing, his bare feet pressed against cold tile. It was the atrium of the Ministry of Magic, he realized, and he was naked. Though his dream self didn_ _’t seem to mind, as he walked though the Ministry atrium with a grace Harry had never attributed to himself before._

_There were other people in the dream, Ministry workers going about their day, although none of them paid any mind. In fact, it was as if none of them even say the naked young man making his way through their ranks._

_The only time someone did pay any mind, Harry noticed, was when his dream self would speak to them. His dream self would always whisper in their ear, Harry could never tell what exactly, but the next moment, the poor soul would be all too eager to help his dream self to his destination._

_Harry had to keep up with his dream self as they made through the various hallways of the Ministry. He had no clue where in the Ministry they were, considering Harry_ _’s limited (not to mention poor) experiences with the government building. But apparently his dream self knew exactly where he was going._

_There was a door. His dream self stopped in front of the door, then turned, looking directly at Harry._

_Harry blinked, slightly unnerved at being stared down by himself. It made Harry feel as if he were the one naked in the dream (even if he technically was)._

_His dream self didn_ _’t seem to have time for Harry’s nerves, instead pointing a tapered finger at a strange fixture in the middle of the door._

_“Oh god…that’s Moody’s eye…” Harry’s jaw dropped slightly. Then his eyes traveled to where his dream self   was now pointing._

_Delores Umbridge_  
Undersecretary to Minister Thicknesse  
Head of the Muggle-Born Registration

_“Not her again…” Harry shook his head, “But wait, Scrimgeour is Minister.”_

_His dream self simply shook his head before opening the door and entering the office. Harry had to move quickly to enter the office behind his dream self, despite every fiber in his being telling him to go anywhere but in that office._

_Umbridge_ _’s office was very much like the monstrosity it had been at Hogwarts, pink and kitten decorations in all. The woman (if one could call her that) was sitting at her desk, quill writing at rapid speed._

_“Shame it’s not her special quill…”_

_The dream self gave Harry a little smirk as he made his way towards the desk. As the dream self made his way behind the desk to stand behind Umbridge, Harry was able to spy the small desk calendar beside Umbridge_ _’s name plaque._

**_Aug 1_ **

_“August first? But that’s tomorrow…” Harry muttered as he turned his gaze from the calendar to his dream self, only to pale in horror._

_His dream self was no longer the graceful being that had been walking through the Ministry of Magic. Where long naked legs had been was now a single tail, covered in green scales, twisting and turning around Umbridge and the office floor. Umbridge was squirming under the power of being crushed by the emerald tail. As she squirmed, she was also choking, as Harry_ _’s dream self was pulling tight on a chain around her neck._

_Harry was so horrified to see his own hands covered in scales and claws, it took him a moment to realize just was was on the other end of the chain._

_“The locket…” Harry whispered, horrified._

_The dream self laughed, his previously plump red lips now nothing but slips of flesh that hid rows of razor sharp teeth. With one claw, he caressed the locket, gently following the contours of he engraved_ _‘S’. A toothy grin split across the dream self’s face, his eyes gleaming with something evil._

_“Bessst not wassste time, then.”_

* * *

 

“Harry!”

Harry opened his eyes, only to squint again in the face of the bright sunlight. It took Harry a few moments of blinking to realize that he was not in Ron’s room. In fact, he wasn’t even in the Burrow at all; instead, he was standing in the middle of a field, barefoot and still in his outgrown clothes.

Looking behind him, Harry could see both Ron and Hermione, both in their own pajamas.

“What…” Harry trailed off, “Was I sleep walking?”

Hermione nodded, “We’ve been calling your name for ages, Harry.”

“You walked nearly a mile, barefoot.” Ron shook his head, “We tried to stop you, but…you’re _strong._ _”_

“Why didn’t you hex me?” Harry took a shuddering breath, sinking to his knees.

Hermione was at his side in an instant, “We didn’t have time to grab our wands, we were trying to keep up with you…” Ron nodded in agreement, looking around cautiously.

The three of them remained in silence for quite some time, trying to piece together what had happened. Then Harry remembered his dream, “I know where the locket is.”

“What?”

“The locket.” Harry nodded, “I had a dream, and I saw where the locket was.”

“Where?”

“Umbridge has it.”

At this, both Ron and Hermione paused. “Are you sure, mate?” Ron asked, wary, “I don’t want sound cynical or anything, but dreams and you haven’t exactly gotten along well in the past…”

“What Ron means, Harry.” Hermione sighed, “Is are you sure?”

Harry nodded, “Absolutely sure, this had nothing to do with my visions from…well, you know. This was completely different. I saw myself _lead_ me to the locket.” _And turn into an evil snake monster that was killing Umbridge_ _…_ “There’s something else.”

“Other than the fact that we’re going to have to storm the Ministry of Magic and deal with Umbridge to get the locket back?” Ron raised an eyebrow.

“Uh, yeah. In my…vision, dream, whatever… Thicknesse was the Minister of Magic, not Scimgeour.” Harry shook his head, “The Deatheaters are going to take over the Ministry…and if it hasn’t happened already, then it’s going to happen tomorrow.”

Both Ron and Hermione paled.

“Bloody hell…” Ron shook his head, “That would be our luck…”

Hermione sighed, “So do we go before, or after the coup?”

Harry blinked, “You believe me?”

“Why wouldn’t we?” Ron shook his head, “We can’t pretend this is the strangest thing we’ve faced. And it’s not like we have any other leads towards finding the locket.” He chuckled, “Though I don’t think Bill is going to like us missing the wedding.”

“Well I’m pretty sure I got uninvited, considering the fact the bride thinks I’m going to eat her.”

“True.” Hermione smiled softly, ruffling Harry’s hair, “I guess we have work to do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there we go, plot time! Poor Harry, he doesn't know what to think. 
> 
> Have any suggestions, feel free to let me know what you think!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yeah, sorry for being MIA. Having an adult job can do that to you! But I somehow managed to have this chapter laying around (it was originally an unfinished larger chapter, but I decided to crop it so you guys could read it!)
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

There were several things that the Dark Lord Voldemort held in great disdain, likely too many things to properly list. But near the top of the unspoken “things to loath” list (just under the Brat who Lived, and just above Wormtail’s sniveling attitude) was the Ministry. Too long had the Ministry of Magic remained the way it was, outdated and soft. Before, it had suited his purposes just fine, leading the populace to ignorance and submissive apathy. But it had now outlived its usefulness, and Voldemort would not tolerate weakness in his new regime. It was time to establish a new world order, and there was no time like the present.

There was simply nothing quite like a plan coming to fruition.

“Soon, a new era will dawn…” The words fell easily from his lip-less mouth as he addressed his followers at the table. “Too long has the folly of the Ministry been allowed to continue. The time has come for a stronger…superior hand to guide the minds of Wizarding kind.”

Those at the long table hummed in agreement. Bellatrix was teeming with her shriek-like giggles, wine goblet in hand (not to mention emptied once or twice already), while Severus was his usual stoic self.

“Yaxley.” The sallow-faced man nodded in response to the Dark Lord’s acknowledgment, “Are you prepared for the task I have assigned you?”

“Of course, my Lord.” Yaxley bowed his head. “I have already contained Thicknesse under my control. He will not be a problem, and no one will suspect.”

“Do not underestimate the will and paranoia of the enemy.” Voldemort hissed, drumming his long fingers against the dark wood of the table, “Which reminds me…did you remember to give our…gift, to our friend?”

Yaxley smirked, “Of course, my Lord. She is quite…eager to hang it on her door.”

“I imagine she is.” The news brought a twisted smile to the serpent-man’s mouth, “But I do hope she has the…discretion to keep from displaying it until after tomorrow. I would be infinitely…displeased if she were to tip our hand…”

The entire table nodded dumbly. No one was fool enough to displease their Lord and Master.

“Excellent.” He smirked, “Then I trust the rest of you know your rolls for tomorrow’s—”

His usual orders were cut off as searing pain cut through his vision, taking all precedence over his consciousness…

_“Harry, I don’t know if this is going to work…”_

_“Hermione, we have to try…”_

_Potter was standing in the Atrium of the Ministry of Magic, the Blood Traitor and Mudblood huddled at either side of him. The three were looking at the fountain situated in the center of the Atrium, no doubt trying to blend in. Potter_ _’s normally dark locks had been charmed to appear blond (though the shade didn’t do him justice), and his signature glasses were missing. The Mudblood and Blood Traitor had also charmed their appearance, and truly, no Weasley should ever attempt to have black hair._

_The three made their way away from the fountain, holding a Ministry pamphlet before them as if they were tourists on holiday, and to the Dark Lord_ _’s amazement, not a single person questioned their story. Such was the double-edge sword of the inattention of the sheep of the Wizarding World…_

_“Which way to Umbridge’s office, Ron?” Potter whispered as they passed a group of Aurors._

_The Weasley boy scanned the map quickly,_ _“It’ll be here.” He murmured, pointing on the map, “Though if she’s in there, we could have problems.”_

_“She has to be there, Ron.” Potter’s voice was still barely above a whisper despite the fact they were moving away from the crowd. “She’s wearing the locket, if she’s not there, we’ll have to wait for her or something.”_

_“This is an awful idea, Harry…” The Mudblood shook her head, “This is our worst plan yet…”_

_“When do_ any _of our plans actually work, Hermione?_ _” Potter sighed as the three turned a corner, “Besides, we don’t have time to make a plan, Voldemort will take over the Ministry tomorrow. Then it’ll be near impossible to get that horcrux…”_

The vision of Potter ended abruptly, leaving the Dark Lord Voldemort gasping for breath in front of his inner circle. And apparently, every Death Eater at the table had witnessed his moment of weakness. Bellatrix was at his side, fussing and fretting over him.

“My Lord…”

“Enough!” Voldemort hissed, brushing off Bellatrix’s wandering hands. “Potter is at the Ministry of Magic.”

Severus raised an eyebrow, “You saw this, my Lord.” It wasn’t a question. Severus wasn’t the type to ask stupid questions, thankfully…

“Indeed, the boy’s unguarded mind is serving its usefulness once more.” There was no sense in revealing the Taboo to his followers just yet… He would wait until he was firmly in power and his enemies scattered before the news of that spread, “But he is seeking to steal something from our Ministry friend…we must ensure he does not succeed. Yaxley, change of plans, gather your forces. You attack _now._ _”_

* * *

 

Never in Harry’s life did he think he would be actively searching out someone who caused him as much torment as Delores Umbridge. Honestly, Harry would not have shed a tear if he had learned that the toadish woman had died as a result of her encounter with the centaurs. And if that made him a bad person…well, so be it.

And yet, there he was, searching out her office in the middle of the Ministry of Magic…

“This is too risky…” Hermione muttered to herself as they walked by a few office workers.

“Story of our lives, Hermione.” Ron replied, though he, too, made a point to avoid eye contact with anyone.

Hermione’s nerves were not easily settled, of course, “This all hinges on the fact that Umbridge has the locket. If she doesn’t…”

“Then we’re back to square one, which is where we were last night.” Harry muttered, following Ron’s directions easily.

“No, we could be arrested for trespassing and attempted theft.” Hermione frowned, “It’s a bit hard to search for Horcruxes in Azkaban, Harry.”

“Well we’re just going to make sure we don’t get caught.”

Harry didn’t want to admit it, but he was feeling far more confident than he ought to. After all, it wasn’t as if his dreams hadn’t led him wrong before (with lethal results). If anything, he should be questioning hi dreams all the more, or outright ignoring them.

But yet…

As Harry walked through the corridors of the Ministry, he couldn’t help but feel…at ease. He had done this before, even if in his dreams, why should it be any harder now? In fact, as he walked between Ron and Hermione, he was the only one who wasn’t going out of his way to avoid being seen. He wouldn’t be seen, or if he was, no one would pay him any mind. Harry didn’t know why he was so confident of this fact, but perhaps seeing his dream self perform the same feat (naked, mind you) made him all the more at ease with his own body walking the same steps.

…well, perhaps not the _same_ steps, he was with Ron and Hermione and he didn’t exactly want to frighten them.

None the less, Harry felt more at ease with himself and his actions than he ever had before. His own skin seemed to fit him better (if that were at all physically possible), and every movement seemed perfectly executed. So what if the only movement Harry was doing right then was walking down corridors, he was doing it perfectly

In no time at all, Harry found himself standing in an all too familiar hallway. Despite having never been in that wing of the Ministry before, Harry could recognize every feature of the corridor from his dream. If anything, the slightly chipped tile after the third door on the left and the flickering light charm halfway down the hall gave Harry all the more confidence that his dream had led them true. There was no way he could have made those details up. Not accurately at least. And while Harry might have been the reigning King of Dumb Luck, he seriously doubted a coincidence that large.

“There it is…”

Harry turned his attention to Ron, who nodded towards one of the many doors of that hallway. He didn’t need to ask Ron if he was sure. Even if Harry didn’t have full faith in his dream, he could easily read the plaque on the wall.

**_Delores Umbridge  
Undersecretary to Minister Scrimgeour_ **

“Well at least Scrimgeour is still Minister…never thought I’d say that.” Ron muttered, shaking his head.

Hermione rolled her eyes, “Not the time, Ron…” She looked at Harry, meeting his eyes, “So what do we do now?”

What to do now…well, wasn’t _that_ the million Galleon question? Harry took a deep breath, trying to form the next step of his plan (or lack thereof). “Alright, how about this.” He turned his attention to Ron, then back to Hermione. Once he was sure he had their attention (where else could it be), he continued, “Ron, you stay out here to serve as watch, in case someone heads this way. Then Hermione and I will go in the office. We see Umbridge, we stun her quickly and grab the locket and get out of there as fast as we can.”

“That’s it, mate?” Ron raised an eyebrow.

“Do we need more?” Harry nodded, not sure if he was convincing Ron or himself, “Sometimes simple is better.”

Ron shrugged, “Why am I standing guard? Why not Hermione?”

“Because you know more people in the Ministry, you’ll be able to recognize more threats.” Harry smiled, “Besides, Hermione is better at memory charms, which we’ll need against Umbridge.”

Ron blinked, before nodding in agreement, “Fair enough…” he muttered, hand straying to his wand. Harry and Hermione did the same as Harry reached for the doorknob with his free hand.

“Ready?”

“As ready as we can be.”

Harry smiled softly before turning the knob, putting their plan into action.

Or, at least it would have, if the knob had, in fact, turned.

“Oh, you’ve got to be bloody kidding me.” Ron muttered, “A damn locked door.”

Hermione rolled her eyes, drawing out her wand, “This is getting ridiculous… _Aloh-_ _”_

Ron had his hand covering Hermione’s mouth before she could finish the spell, “ _Are you trying to get us caught, Hermione?_ _”_ He reluctantly released her mouth once he was sure she wouldn’t be casting any spells, “First of all, Umbridge is a paranoid, high ranking officer of the Ministry, did you really think “Alohamora” was going to do the trick?” Hermione had the decency to blush (though Harry didn’t blame her, he didn’t know any other unlocking charms either). “Second,” Ron continued, “Every office door is warded to alert security if someone attempts to unlock them without proper identification.”

“Why didn’t you tell us that sooner?” Hermione hissed, flustered.

“I didn’t think we’d be thwarted so soon by a bloody locked door!” Ron replied, ears red, “Besides, the locking wards only engage when the owner is not in the office, or if the owner chooses to keep them engaged.”

Harry was half tempted to bash his head against the door. Of all the _stupid_ things they’ve had to deal with…

“Quick, someone’s coming!”

Before Harry had the chance to respond, Ron had grabbed both him and Hermione and pulled them to the closest alcove. It was a tight squeeze for the three, considering the fact they weren’t eleven anymore and they didn’t have the Invisibility Cloak to cover them. Speaking of which…

“Why didn’t you bring the cloak again, Harry?” Ron whispered.

“…didn’t think we’d all fit…” Harry muttered in response. In all honesty, Harry hadn’t even thought he might _need_ the cloak. After all, it had seemed so effortless in his dream…though looking back on it, that was a downright _stupid_ mistake to make. But luckily for Harry, Ron didn’t get the chance to rip him a new one for leaving behind a valuable asset, as they had to maintain silence as the approaching parties grew closer.

Harry did not like the color pink. In fact, if he were to put it in words, he would no doubt declare that he absolutely _loathed_ the color pink, regardless of shade or hue. The poor color, through no fault of its own, had been forever tainted due to its association with one Delores Umbridge. From the prim pillbox hat nestled on her head to the highly shined shoes on her feet, Delores Umbridge was as every bit as deplorable as she had been back in fifth year. And if she made just _one_ more of her incessant “hem-hem”s, Harry could not be held responsible for what he would do.

But while the sight of Umbridge was unsettling enough, it was the fact that she wasn’t alone that really had Harry on edge. And judging by the way Ron sagged his shoulders, he wasn’t too happy to see the familiar red head either.

“Damnit Percy…” Ron whispered, unable to keep silent.

To be honest, Harry had all but forgotten that Percy was still a scribe for the Ministry (actually, he tended to forget the third Weasley brother entirely). But, now that he was walking next to Umbridge, taking notes from her dictations, there was really no choice _but_ to confront him.

But, on the plus side, Harry could see that Umbridge was wearing the locket. Alright, he couldn’t _see_ the locket, whatever was at the end of the chain around Umbridge’s neck was tucked into her blouse, but he could _feel_ the horcrux calling to him. It was close, and Harry needed to grab it.

Umbridge opened the office door and, as the two made their way inside, Harry decided to make his move. Ron and Hermione didn’t even have a chance to react as Harry darted forward, making his way into the office before the door could close once more.

* * *

 

“I’m going to kill him.”

“I’m going to kill Umbridge.”

“Ron!”

“What, you were thinking it too. I just hope Harry leaves some of her left over…”

“Ron, I’m serious.”

“So was I. Here’s hoping his impulsiveness doesn’t backfire.”

“Ron, when does it _not?_ _”_

“…I’m going to kill him.”

* * *

 

In hindsight, barging into the office of a high-ranking Ministry official, where the odds were two to one for said Ministry official and official Ministry scribe, was perhaps not the best idea. Unfortunately, it had been the only idea Harry had been able to come up with in that moment.

Oh well, no use crying over spilled milk. Best to simply move forward.

“ _Expelliarmus._ _”_ The spell was falling off Harry’s lips before he could even think of any other course of action. Signature spell, indeed. Umbridge’s wand was out of her hand and soaring across the room before either she or Percy were even aware of his presence.

As Umbridge’s attention was directed towards her wayward wand, she caught sight of Harry. Now Harry wasn’t sure if Umbridge recognized him, what with his unscheduled growth spurt, not to mention his glamour. Then again, it probably wasn’t that important: she would have him arrested either way. “How _dare_ you—”

“ _Incarcerous._ ”

As Harry watched Umbridge’s squat body fall to the floor, he couldn’t help but feel a small sense of satisfaction. Though it didn’t last long, as Harry quickly remembered that he was _not_ , in fact, alone with Umbridge in the room.

_“Stupefy!”_

Harry was able to dodge the spell at the last possible moment, once more silently praising his Seeker reflexes. Dropping to one knee, Harry returned fire, “ _Expelliarmus!_ _”_

Sure, it might have been better to do more than disarm Percy, but he was still Ron’s brother…prat, or no prat.

“Stay out of this, Percy!” Harry kept his wand pointed firmly at the scribe, “I don’t want to hurt you, but I will if you get in my way.”

And while Harry might not be recognizable by sight anymore, there was no disguising his voice. And judging by the way Percy’s eyes went wide, the scribe knew exactly who was threatening him.

“Har—”

“Sh!” Harry shook his head, “Just stay there, and everything will be okay.”

To be honest, Harry should have just stunned Percy, it would have made everything so much easier. Then again, Harry didn’t exactly do easy. Besides, he had other things to worry about. Namely the foul witch writhing on the floor.

“Unhand me, you foul—”

“Oh do shut up.” Harry rolled his eyes, making his way towards Umbridge’s fallen body. Honestly, the sooner he could be done with her, the better.

Despite being a small woman, holding Umbridge still was quite the task. The screaming didn’t help either. By the time Harry had his hands around the chain at Umbridge’s neck, he was questioning whether of not Umbridge had banshee blood in her.

“Get your hands off me, you scoundrel!”

“Scoundrel?” Harry raised an eyebrow, reaching down to free the locket from where it was caught on the woman’s blouse, “That’s a new one…”

The moment Harry caught sight of the locket, he was overwhelmed with a sense of…completion. Honestly, how could he have ever thought the locket in the cave could have been the actual horcrux, when _this_ one simply _sang_ to his very being? The poor locket…here it was, so far from its brothers and forced to suffer around the neck of such a horrid woman. But it would be alright now, Harry had it now. He’d take _such_ good care of—

“Thief!”

Harry was pulled from his thoughts as Umbridge’s voice clawed through his consciousness. The woman was read in the face now, reminding Harry of the lovely shade of plum Uncle Vernon would turn from time to time…

“Excuse me, what was that?” Harry raised his eyebrow, “You can’t exactly call me a thief, considering the fact this locket is not yours to begin with.”

“I’ll have you know that locket has been an heirloom of the Selwyn—”

Harry wasn’t even aware of the fact he had grabbed Umbridge by the hair until the witch had let out a whimper of pain. The pillbox hat lay on the floor, forgotten, as Harry’s tangled grip in Umbridge’s hair tightened. It was taking every bit of control that Harry had to keep from paying Umbridge back for every act of cruelty she had shown him and others.

“You should really take your own advice.” Harry hissed, “ _’I must not tell lies…’_ ”

As Umbridge’s eyes widened in recognition, Harry could feel the skin beneath his hands crawling and shifting. The scales were slowly crawling down his arms until they reached his hands, where his claws burst through his fingertips. He wasn’t a powerless student anymore, she couldn’t torture him the way she had those years ago. Why shouldn’t he make sure she couldn’t hurt another living being again? Why shouldn’t he simply…do away with her? She was such a little toad…and he was so hungry…

Honestly, she couldn’t be more than a mouthful… _I hunger_ _…my soul…_

It was a whimper that cut through Harry’s mind, but not Umbridge’s. Blinking, Harry realized that, to his horror, his jaw had become unhinged and his open mouth was poised over Umbridge’s head. And as he turned, Harry could see Percy up against the far wall, frozen in fear.

Slowly, Harry pulled himself away from Umbridge (who had at some point passed out, luckily for Harry’s eardrums) and turned his attention to the redhead. Harry wasn’t sure when he began to make his way towards Percy, but he could feel his jaw snap back into place, and his claws retract into his fingers.

Harry found, as he was standing in front of Percy, that fear tasted an awful lot like blood: coppery and bitter. Not a good taste, Harry didn’t like it; the fear would have to go if he was to deal with Percy.

“Percy…” Harry started, placing a hand over Percy’s heart. The muscle was working overtime, and Harry could _feel_ it pumping under his touch. “I need you to calm down.”

Honestly, Harry hadn’t expected Percy to actually calm down just because he told him to. But Harry could feel the beats slow down under his hand, oddly enough. The coppery taste of fear was still present, but not as strong as it had been.

“Good…good…” Harry murmured, looking Percy in the eye, “Percy, you know I don’t want to hurt you, right?”

There was no response from Percy, the scribe remaining still as a statue.

“Answer me, Percy.”

“Yes, I know, Harry.”

As Percy responded to Harry’s order, Harry was able to see the dilation of Percy’s pupils. As they did, Harry could taste another sensation. It was a heavier taste, but not unpleasant; rich and sweet, with a bitter afterthought, almost like dark chocolate.

Oh… _Oh!_

Ron was never going to let Harry live down the fact that he had accidentally seduced his brother… But he’d deal with that later.

“Percy, are you going to turn me in to the Ministry?”

“No…never…”

“That’s good, because that would make me very unhappy.”

“I don’t want you to be unhappy.”

Part of Harry acknowledged the fact that it was far too weird to be seducing his old Hogwarts Prefect while in his most hated professor’s office…but the rest of Harry seemed to be working without his consent.

“I’m so glad you say that, Percy.” Harry smiled, sliding his hand up from over Percy’s heart to curl around the side of Percy’s neck, just over the pulse point, “Because you know what would make me really happy?”

Percy couldn’t even respond verbally. Instead, the older man only nodded, leaning into Harry’s touch. Of course, that was when Percy decided to lean forward and actually kiss Harry firmly on the lips.

Now once upon a time, Harry might have found himself fantasizing about kissing one of Ron’s siblings. Just not this one. Of course, not that it mattered, he was _delicious._ The bittersweet richness pressed against his lips was delectable, but only served to further whet Harry’s appetite. Perhaps just a bite wouldn’t hurt…Percy wouldn’t feel it…he’d probably even enjoy it, kinky bastard…

It was the hard pounding on the door that interrupted Harry this time, followed by the frantic cries of “Harry!” on the other side.

Right…Ron and Hermione were waiting for him…probably worried about him (or annoyed at him, knowing Hermione…). They probably wouldn’t want him wasting time. With a sigh, Harry pulled back from Percy, doing his best to ignore the needy gasps from the older man. Of course, that left Harry with the dilemma of what to do with Percy. He couldn’t just _leave_ him there, Umbridge would have to come to eventually, and she’d no doubt have Percy’s head for not defending her…

“Go back to your family, Percy.” Harry said firmly, “They need you. Go now.” No doubt the Weasley’s would know what to do with Percy, and while Harry didn’t exactly _like_ the redhead, he certainly didn’t want one of Ron’s brothers to be present when Voldemort took over the Ministry…

Now Harry hadn’t actually thought Percy would just… _obey_ him. He thought at least he’d have to give the former Head Boy a firm talking to (did those even work?) or threaten to hex him. But judging by how quickly Percy walked to the office door and exited, he needn’t have bothered.

“Huh…odd…” Harry blinked, clearing his mind. What exactly had just happened?

The soft pull of the locket in his hand was all the answer he got.

* * *

 

“Damn it, Harry…” Ron huffed, “I’m going to bloody kill him…”

“Not if I get to him first.” Hermione sighed, leaning against the wall next to the door. Honestly, either Hermione overdid her Notice-me-not charm, or the workers at the Ministry truly didn’t see anything out of the ordinary with the two loitering outside the locked office door, “Honestly, I expected stunts like this in first year, but we’re at _war_ now. We can’t just rush into things now, we’re going to get killed one of these days.”

“Well it better not be today.” Shaking his head, Ron tried the doorknob for the umpteenth time (with more or less the exact same results), “If Harry gets himself offed by _Umbridge_ of all people and leaves us to hunt Horcruxes on our own, I’m gunna—”

Of course, Ron didn’t get to finish his empty threat, as at that moment, the door decided to open. And Ron, having been fighting with the doorknob for the past few minutes, received a face-full of door before landing unceremoniously on the floor.

“Oh, sorry Ron, I didn’t see you there.” Ron and Hermione both froze as they stood (or in Ron’s case, sat) face to face with Percy Weasley. Now perhaps it was the instinct of being faced with their old Prefect that made both of them seize up instead of acting. Though there probably wasn’t much they _could_ have done, as the very next moment, Percy was pulling Ron to his feet, dusting off imaginary dirt from his younger brother, “I’m afraid I can’t exactly dawdle, Ron. All this work and I’ve _just_ realized I’ve failed to get Bill and Fleur a wedding gift, how embarrassing.” Percy adjusted his glasses slightly, “I suppose I’ll be seeing you at home then, Ron.”

With that, the black sheep of the Weasley family calmly strode down the corridor, as if he hadn’t disowned his family for the better part of two years.

“The hell…?” For a moment, Ron had been convinced the words had come from his own mouth, before realizing that Hermione had in fact spoken his thoughts out loud. “You did see that, didn’t you, Ron?”

“I saw it…I don’t know if I believe it…” Ron shook his head in disbelief as the door opened once more, revealing Harry. The charm on Harry’s hair had been broken at some point, leaving Harry with his usual onyx locks. Other than that, though, he looked completely unharmed.

Hermione sighed in relief, “Harry, thank goodness…” She grabbed his arm, “What happened?”

Harry said nothing at first, simply lifting his hand to reveal the locket. Then he was quickly making his way down the hall, “We need to get out of here, quickly.” He muttered, distracted.

Ron and Hermione struggled to keep up (or rather, Hermione struggled—Ron thanked his long legs) with Harry as they made their retreat. “Harry, mate, what did you do to Percy?” Ron asked quietly as they reached more the more heavily populated areas of the Ministry.

“…I told him to go back to your family…”

Frowning, Ron leaned in close to Harry, “Harry, did you put him under the _Imperius?_ Because if you’ve gone and cast an Unforgivable, I really think you could have found a better victim than Percy.”

“I didn’t put Percy under the _Imperius._ _”_

Both Ron and Hermione stared at Harry as they walked, waiting for further explanation. “… _Well?_ ” Hermione hissed, growing impatient like she always did when she didn’t have an answer to a question.

Harry blushed (and in the back of Ron’s mind, he had to acknowledge that Harry looked very pretty when he blushed—though he quickly told that line of thought to behave), “I…” He began, only to stop talking as they passed several groups of passerbys. It actually took a few minutes of them weaving through the crowd before Harry continued (Ron hadn’t actually expected a response at that point).

“I might have snogged him a bit…”

“You sno-” Ron shook his head, hand gripping on Harry’s shoulder, “ _You snogged him?_ _”_ Ron whispered, “You _snogged_ Percy?”

“Yes, Ron, stop repeating it!” Harry covered his face in embarrassment.

Ron frowned, watching his friend, “…Did you eat my brother’s soul, Harry?”

“I don’t think so…”

“You better not have.” Ron muttered. “…Git would probably give you indigestion…”

Harry snorted, causing Ron and Hermione to chuckle slightly at the thought. Harry’s embarrassment was slowly melting away so that, by the time they reached the Atrium, He was at ease once more, “Honestly, I don’t know what happened…” He murmured, “There were moments when I was acting without thinking—”

“That’s not out of the ordinary for you, Harry.”

“Let the man talk, Hermione.”

“Thanks Ron. Anyway,” Harry ran a hand through his hair, “But it was like my body just…took control of itself, and then…Percy was just putty in my hands.”

Ron wrinkled his nose, “When we get home, Harry, we are having a serious talk about your apparent need to snog my siblings…especially since one is getting married to a woman who is terrified of you--”

As if on cue, a woman’s scream split through the atrium like thunder, only to be covered by the cacophony of screams and shouts from the crowds of people.

“Well that can’t be good.”

Hermione sighed, “Damn our bloody luck.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the cliff hanger! Hopefully Harry can use his newfound powers to get out of this one! Whoops!
> 
> Let me know if you have any ideas, comments, or just all around thoughts!

**Author's Note:**

> So there's the first chapter! I hope you enjoy!
> 
> If you have any suggestions for further pairings or ideas for the stories, feel free to comment!


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